


Pictures of You

by pushkin666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Bloodplay, Claiming, Knifeplay, M/M, Marking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's way of dealing with John's death is to ensure Sam cannot leave him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam shifts uneasily in his bonds as Dean stalks around him, each circle bringing him closer and closer to his brother. Sam swallows as the knife glints in Dean's hand, the sun shining through lace curtains, sparkling against the steel blade.

It's Sam's knife. The one that Dean gave him for his sixteenth birthday. His favourite knife. He knows how sharp it is – one thing his father taught them was to keep their weapons in tip-top condition. He looks up, as his brother comes to a halt in front of him. Sam stares up into his brother's eyes and waits.

 

!~!

 

Dean breathes in the scent of his brother, of his Sammy. He moves around him like an animal stalking its prey. Sam is his, always has been. Always will be. He just needs to make his brother aware of this. Sam isn't dumb. Dean knows that, he's been played often enough by Sam to know that. This time though, he's the one in charge. The one calling the shots. He takes a deep breath, breathes in the scent of fear, of excitement.

He smiles. Sam wants this. He may not know it yet, but he will give into Dean, eventually.

!~!

 

He's always allowed Sam to knock heads with their father. Played the peacemaker, the diplomat. He snorts under his breath. Sam is much better suited for that role. Dean never felt the need to put his brother in his place, to show him where he stood in the family hierarchy. But now, after their father's death Dean is not prepared to play second fiddle to Sam. He was happy to be John's second, his deputy. But he will not do this for Sam. He is the elder after all. He will not show his belly to his brother anymore.

 

!~!

 

Sam looks up at him through those long lashes. Dean swallows. His brother is so goddamn hot. Large hands, a body that seems to go on forever, thick heavy hair that Dean wants to run his hands through, wants to come in. And those lashes – hiding Sam's inquisitive and intelligent eyes – sinful. Dean's watched his brother his whole life, making sure Sam is safe. He's wanted him for years now, before Sam went away, left their family. He never said anything, hoped that the feelings would go away. He thought he'd managed to control it, but then Sam came home.

 

!~!


	2. Chapter 2

He holds Sam's eyes as he sinks onto the floor, kneeling in front of him. Dean winces slightly as he knees crack. He reaches one hand forward and slowly skims the tips of his fingers over Sam's cheek, before moving down to Sam's lips. The softness of Sam's lips is a direct contract to the harsh calluses on Dean's fingers. He feels the heat of Sam's breath as Sam gasps against his fingers. He sits back on his heels for a moment simply staring up at Sam, trying to read his mood. Dean has always been able to read Sam, but only up to a point. His brother has always managed to hide part of himself away from Dean, despite Sam studying being an integral part of Dean's make-up.

Whey they were younger Dean couldn't understand why Sam would do such a thing. Couldn't understand why Sam wouldn't give everything of himself to Dean. He understands better now, secrets are necessary particularly in a family such as the Winchesters. Dean's own 'unnatural' feelings for Sam have been hidden away for years. Dean has never thought them unnatural but he realised long ago that to the world at large his feelings for his brother would be perceived as wrong.

He runs his fingers over Sam's lips again before taking them away. Sam's eyes dark as Dean brings his fingers to his face and smells them, as though he can smell Sam on them.

He watches as Sam's eyes leave his own and flicker downwards. Dean glances down, only just realising at that point that Sam's looking at the knife. Sam's knife. Dean shifts slightly on his heels and slowly, so very slowly, he runs the fingers of his right hand over the flat of the blade. It's a good sharp blade. Dean made sure of that when he had it made for his brother.

!~!

 

Sam's always preferred knives to guns and Dean wanted to have a knife made for Sam's 16th birthday. He spoke to both Caleb and his father but in the end it had been Pastor Jim who had pointed him in the right direction – to a knife maker by the name of Marko. He was from a long line of hunters and metal smiths. They had retained the knowledge of making Damascus steel, a process thought to have been lost around 1750. Their family had made weapons for generations of hunters.

Marko visited Pastor Jim whilst Sam and Dean were staying at Blue Earth, their father being away on a hunting trip. He spent three days studying both boys and pulling Dean aside on the third day he curtly told him he would make a knife for Sam. Dean tried to thank him but he brushed it off, telling him that Sam would need one of his knives. As for payment he requested a future favour from Dean, a favour that still hadn't been called in. Nine months later it arrived, stunning in its beauty. A Bowie Knife – 8 inches of patterned blade, five inches wooden handle, made with Damascus steel and bog oak, it was a stunning weapon to behold. On each side of the handle a rune had been embedded. Dean knew what the runes were for. From the very first time Caleb had shown him the lore of runes he had been fascinated by them.

The Tiwaz rune, picked out in red. The warrior rune, standing for courage and compassion, named for Tiw the god of war and justice.

The second rune, no less powerful. Algiz, rune of protection and safe refuge, picked out in gold.

!~!

 

Dean continued to map out the blade with his fingers. The handle is slightly worn now, the runes carved there fading into the wood. Over the years their power had sunk into the knife. The blood of those hunted often mingling with Sam's own, continuing to bind the knife to Sam - making it wholly his from the very first. Dean had instructed him on how to begin the binding. Sam slicing the knife over the palm of his right hand, the blood oozing up. Sam smeared the blood over the blade before wrapping his hand around the handle, impregnating the knife with his blood, his energy, his essence – holding the knife in his large hand until the bleeding stopped.

The knife had never known the taste of Dean's blood, but Dean intends to change that – here, tonight. He would never take the knife away from Sam – it is after all one of Sam's most treasured possessions. When he left for Stanford the knife went with him. Dean will use the knife first on himself and then … then he will use it on his brother, will watch the silver of the blade as it traces over Sam's skin, caressing him – binding them together. Dean shivers slightly and shifts again, making himself more comfortable. He holds Sam's gaze as he draws the blade of the knife over his index finger, pain sharp and clear as his skin opens – like butter around a hot knife.

"Dean!" Sam gasps as he watches the blood, red against his brother's skin. Still looking up at his brother, Dean slowly runs his finger over the blade, leaving a trail of crimson in it's wake.


End file.
